Illusion
by xX-Crayola-Xx
Summary: My take on Harley's descent into madness and obsession. There will be many references to some of my favorite lyrics. See if you can catch them!
1. Chapter 1: Nightmares

Hi! This is my second fancic and most active! You have no idea what reviews mean to me! They are the reason to keep writing! So please, leave your thoughts. I'm not lucky enough to own any of the characters.

xoxo

~Crayola ;D

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The streets were slow considering a usual Gotham night. Most of the smart, sensible people of my little town knew to bolt the doors and windows once 7:30 rolled around but, then again, there isn't a lot of that type of person here. I pushed my way through the crowd walking in the opposite direction of me, taking shoulders to the neck and briefcases in the shin. Twenty different stereotypes most have shoved past me; the beggar, the conspiracy theorist, the thug, the Roxanne, and your "average, normal, everyday" good citizen. Yeah right. Still, I ignored them and kept on struggling to reach the end of the street. Something was there. I had to get to it. I _had_ to.I could feel the time running out, as if it was tangible. Something was at the end of this street that could make all my problems go away; my declining grades, my crappy 9 to 5 minimum wage job, my mother's death, and my sister's brand new husband…everything. When I finally escaped the mob, I realized I was at a dead end. I was in a dark alley way that stunk of waste and booze, faded graffiti plastered over the shoddy brick walls. I could see a shaky silhouette with their back turned to me. Is this what I was fighting for? I could here little gasps escaping their throat.

"Excuse me?" I reached out a tiny, pale hand. The gasping grew louder. "Do you need help?" Those pathetic sounding little gasps morphed into something new. Laughter? Yes, laughter, and it got louder every second. The figure was doubling over now, howling. It frightened me. This was no happy, "Ha, you just told a joke" laughter. This was something sinister and twisted. It shook me to my very core as I shrank back against a grimy wall. This demented person was laughing at nothing, which made me very afraid. I felt a warm sensation blooming up my throat. I was preparing to scream when laughter blossomed from my lips.

This made him laugh more which made me want to laugh with him. He pointed out a spindly, long, white finger to a lump on the ground. I looked over. It was a heap of black nylon and limbs. The man laughed louder. It was a horrible, wicked sound similar to that of a hyena once it takes down an animal that is usually above it on the food chain. _Come on you target for faraway laughter. Come on you stranger, you legend, you martyr. _The lyrics of a song I once heard long before played in my head and it made me want to dance. So I did. I skipped circle around the lifeless mass that once was man.

I danced on his grave, and then I laughed.

I jolted upright in my bed, clammy and shivering. _Damn _I thought. _What was that all about?! _I smoothed back the tangled mass of bleached blonde that was my hair and pulled the sheets up around me. I felt a tight tension in my chest, from both fear and arousal. I threw off my comforter and ran to the kitchen. I downed the rest of the wine and popped a few Tramadol tablets. About 10 minutes later, it all came up again.


	2. Chapter 2: Glimpse

Someone added my story to their alerts! Thats awesome :)

New chapter, trying to update as frequently as possible.

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I walked into Diamond 20 minutes late, still groggy and looking like crap. I had quickly thrown my hair back into a bun and grabbed a pair of clothes that I had worn a few days earlier. "Uh, hey, Harleen. You ain't lookin' so hot today. Do you want me to fix your hair for you?" Kenny darted around the store, straightening and refolding the clothes. I wadded up a piece of paper and launched it at his head. "Fuck you." I was not in the mood to take his shit with a grin on my face like usual. "Woah, girl. Chill out! Somebody's grump-y!" Angela sang the last word and put an arm around me. "Having nightmares again?" She forced a look of concern. God knows she only puts up with me to get paid. "Sure." Just because I wasn't sleeping, doesn't mean my dreams have to be nightmares. I stared at the clock the rest of the day, waiting to go home.

In a city like Gotham, it was quicker to walk home than waste money on a car that would just keep you stuck in traffic all day. The winter night air bit as I paced briskly down the streets. The sunset was fading and I had to get home before dark. I looked up at the sky only to see a new moon. I could hear police sirens in the distance but wasn't moved. This town was seething with crooks, criminals, and madmen. There was even one guy who called himself a "vigilante", running around in spandex and a mask. If you ask me, he needs to be thrown into Arkham and never let go. Iwas so caught up in my thoughts that I almost didn't notice that flash of purple. I had barely caught a look at his pant leg before he rounded the corner a breakneck speed, laughing the whole way. I froze immediately. I had heard that laugh before, dreamt of it so many times before, wanted the lip's that created it on mine.

I had many times before become infatuated with characters I created. The males in my life didn't meet my needs, so I dreamt of ones that did. Pubescence I dreamt of someone who thought I was beautiful and that cared. Teen-age years I dreamed of someone with a fast car that could buy me booze. Until recently, I dreamt of a man that loved my body. That was until I dreamt of _him_. Never in my wildest dreams had I ever dreamt of his existence.

I peered down the road that he had turned, but he was gone. I took a few minutes to steady my breath and then continued home.


	3. Chapter 3: Introduction

Graduation was strange. Standing with people I never really got to know, I felt out-casted. Looking out into the crowd and not seeing a face there that cares if I graduate or not was like a pinch. I was used to it. My mother drank until she was useless and my father drank until he couldn't stand the sight of me and beat me senseless. At this point, I was empty. Numb.

Sure, I walked into school this morning a student and graduated with a degree in psychology. I was a changed person. I could now contribute to society, blah blah blah, all that generic graduation crap. The only thing that really happened that day was a check I received in the mail from my aunt. A small note was attached. '_Congrats, Harleen. None of us thought you would make it.' _ Well, up yours, Auntie. If I didn't need the money, that check would be in a shredder right now.

***

"Well, Dr. Quinzel, it's an honor to have you on the Arkham team." Dr. Arkham said in a blank monotone. God, if you hooked him up to a heart monitor I doubt you'd even find a pulse. Still, I smiled my biggest smile and thanked him. I followed him down a bleak hallway past cells of the criminally insane. I can't honestly say that this didn't scare me. Some of them were sobbing, some growling, and some were just staring, as if catatonic. Arkham was going on about something or another but was cut short when menacing voice echoed through the dark. "Ah, Jeremiah, old boy! How's life been treating you?" He emphasized the word_ life_ and laughed a quiet, low chuckle. Dr. Arkham came to a stand still. He cleared his throat as if that could shake away the fear that still was evident in his tone. "This, Dr. Quinzel, is one of our most dastardly criminals. Patient suffers from severe Narcissism, Egocentrism, Manic-Depressive Disorder, Histronic Personality Disorder, Severe Antisocial Behavior, Megolomania, A-"

"Yes, well the list goes on and on. How rude of you, Jeremy, to not introduce the two of us!"

The wicked man stepped forward and wrapped two gloved hands around the bars. He pressed his white face against them and looked at me kindly. "Hiya, sugar!" He grinned wildly and the scars on his cheeks reached back to his ears. I managed to stammer out a hello. "I've been called the Prince of Crime, the Agent of Chaos, the Killer Clown, the Ace of Knaves… Hell, I even once had someone call me Albert! But you can call me The Joker."

Then he stepped back from the bars and started howling with laughter. It was a sound I'd heard before, many times. Now I had a face to go with it.


	4. Chapter 4: Confrontation

Happy Easter everyone! I'll try to upload a new chapter later on today. Thanks and please review~

Chapter 4: Confrontation

My office was standard. God, I love being able to say that. _My_ office. I worked my ass off in medical school to get pretty decent grades and I only had to sleep with one professor. New record. Anyhow, my office had plain cement walls. A metal desk with two drawers on each side was bolted into the brown carpet. There were two worn leather chairs parallel to my desk with wrist cuffs. They were also bolted down. In a place dealing with the volatile rejects of society, every precaution had to be taken. Cozy.

Dr. Arkham talked of the men and women held here as patients but if you lived in a cell, surely you were a prisoner. He had high hopes of rehabilitating these people, speaking of them as "poor, lost souls". If you had killed before and_ enjoyed_ it could you truly be redeemed? The system here was fairly simple. Those who Arkham considered benign were kept on floor ward A. The slightly more aggressive were kept on ward B. The big name serial killers and such were kept on ward C. Finally, the monsters that ran around killing anything that moved were kept on ward D. These were the patients who also had a knack for escaping.

***

"Now, Dr. Quinzel, do you fully understand what you are asking of me?" His taut face seemed almost sunken. I chewed my gum absently, trying to imagining what he would first say to me when we met. "Yes, sir." Arkham frowned. "Do you know how many of his doctors have ended up here? Or worse?" He feigned fatherly concern but I knew he was just trying to avoid a lawsuit. No one cared unless they wanted something in return. "Yes, Dr. Arkham. If he gets too spirited you will be alerted, trust me." In your dreams. I finally had a chance to both prove myself and to meet him, no way was I blowing this. "If you insist, Dr. Quinzel. Though I am allowing this, I do NOT approve." The other doctors were probably already pooling to see how long it would take until I would crack.

The next week, two burly guards shuffled him into my office. He ignored them and smiled brightly. Tousled green hair fell over his face, which was slathered in greasepaint. I had to fight the urge to ask where he got these things in the Asylum. I as they secured his hand that they had also bound his feet in chains. After the men had left, I was at a loss as of what to say. We sat a whole five minutes in silence.

"It's not polite to stare, Doc." He said eventually. I cleared me throat as twenty different responses tumbled in my head. "My apologies, Mr. Joker." I tried my best to sound professional. He saw right through it all and just smiled.


	5. Chapter 5: Fascia

Chapter 5 Affiliation

"The joke is over, Harleen." The Batman stepped towards me but I kept the pistol steady. "The joke is **never **over, Batsie." Joker's voice resounded. Batman ignored him and took another step towards me. "Shoot him, Harley girl." I cocked the gun but didn't shoot. "Well, isn't this a gas. Henchgirl vs Archenemy. Let's get ready to RUMMMMMMBLLLLLE!!" The Joker laughed at his own joke. "I don't want to hurt you Harley." Batman said in a low voice. "Go ahead, Bats. Don't hold back on my part. She was always more of a convenience than a necessity anyways." The Joker shrugged nonchalantly.. Joker's words hit me deep in the stomach. Maybe if I shot now, I would be a necessity. "Et, tu?" The words were a breathy whisper then blackness.

I rolled off the couch with a loud thud. I sat up and rubbed my lower back. The clock to my left said 10:30. Crap! Crap crap crap! Late, again! I scurried up and threw on a pair of clothes that could pass as respectable.

On my way to the asylum, I felt sick with betrayal. _Get a hold of yourself, Harls_ I thought _Or you'll soon enough end up here._ It was lunacy, really, to feel such strong emotions from a dream. Peculiar. This new profession was really screwing with my head. Why so many dreams about _him? _I was 150% positive that this was NOT a healthy doctor/patient relationship.

***

"Hello, Joker." I sat straight up, prim-n-proper, hands clasp tightly together on my lap as to not let him see that I was nervous. "What's up, Doc?" He clicked his teeth together as if he was chewing. "Not much, really. And you? You seem to be enjoying yourself." God, that was stupid! The man was in an asylum, for Christ's sake! He smirked slyly. "As much fun as you can positively have under my circumstances." Since we first began our sessions, I'd been reading the news daily to see how frequently he made the front page. Recently, a statesman had been slaughtered in his home after promising to bring down some of Gotham's major gangs. His eyes darted over to the paper that sat to me left. "Was that you?" I asked, dumbfounded. "I have friends, too you know. They can be quite generous when they are…." He flipped his wrist around and the chains jingled. "…persuaded." He cocked a faded green eyebrow.

I cleared my throat to indicate that we were moving on to another subject. "What drives you to do such things?' I wanted to come off as straight forward and determined. He rolled his eyes. "What are your opinion on the term 'insane'?" He let his head loll back and lazily counted the lines on the ceiling. "Our society is run by insane people for insane objectives. I think we're being run by maniacs for maniacal ends and I think I'm liable to be put away as insane for expressing that. That's what's insane about it." I flushed as I quoted and then realized I just said I'm liable to be committed.

***

I got a little extra room time 'cause the Doc was tardy. It kind of offended me, honestly. Did she think that I wasn't worth showing up on time for? I should teach the little twit a lesson…. No, not yet. I've seen the way she looks at me. A little more than profession curiousity, eh? I've always been a lady killer though.

I sniggered aloud at my own joke which in turn received a jostle from two beef heads. I think their names were Dominic and Jason. What does it matter though, really? Just another cameo role in the grand stage production of life…

When the doll-faced tart decided she felt like showing up, she looked paranoid. At first, I thought she realized the deadly intent under my inquisitive stares. No, just bad dreams. Bah! Just give me the chance and I'd give her a nightmare she would NEVER wake up from. Let's put a permanent smile on that angelic little face.

She looked rigid as she greeted me. Once I was strapped down and the guards left, I let out full charm. Dazzling smile, a little wink, the whole deal. "What's up, Doc?" I bit down on an invisible carrot and I saw a smile twitch at the edge of her lips. Usually it was easy to get her to smile. Did little Docter Quinzel need Uncy Joker to chase the big, bad scary thoughts away? Just wait until she caught a glimpse of my mentality. Poor child wouldn't recover.

A smile bloomed on my face as she asked what I had been up to. _The usual_ I thought. _Just some good, old-fashioned execution style murders_. I decided to throw her a bone with a sarky comment. A few more meaningless words and we stumbled upon the subject of dear old Lionel Carnegie. I told her some bit about having friends on the outside. _I've got friends in low places…_

"What drives you to do such things?" God, was she blunt. Might as well have asked "Hey, J, tell me what screwed you up in your childhood?" I rolled my eyes at the asinine question and changed the subject. Time to find out the critical stuff. You never know when it might come in handy. "What's your opinion on the term 'insane'?" I asked nonchalantly then looked around, pretending that I wasn't analyzing every single word. "Our society is run by insane people for insane objectives. I think we're being run by maniacs for maniacal ends and I think I'm liable to be put away as insane for expressing that. That's what's insane about it." Stupid girl! If toying with her wasn't half as fun, I would have spit at her, then and there. The idiotic child couldn't even form her own opinions, but had to use some hippy activists! Insolent, brainless, fool!

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Note: The second time I used the stars to transition, we shift from Harley's point of view to the Joker's. Just thought I see how you guys liked it. Feedback needed!!!


	6. Chapter 6: Hatred

Joker POV

"Got to keep the loonies on the path. The lunatic is in the hall. The lunatics are in_ my _hall. The paper holds their folded faces to the floor and every day the paper boy brings more. And if the dam breaks open many years too soon and if there is no room upon the hill, and if your head explodes with dark forebodings too, I'll see you on the dark side of the moon…"

The words were bare mumbles from my chapped lips and I licked at them as the iron taste of blood filled my mouth. I could here faint footsteps in the distance as I realized the hilarious irony of the situation. They had the audacity to label me as insane when all I do is see the world as it truly is. Society accepts no less than fabricated perfection. They submerge the delicate little mush that is your brain into a vat of illusion, where everything is daisy chains and peaches. Well, reality's a bitch. No one cares. To hell if they do! Give them that meaningless green paper that their lives revolve around and they'll slit you're throat faster than you can realize you're dead. I'm just taking the world for what it is.

Damn those religious fools and their talk of purgatory! There is NOTHING after life! It's all a cruel joke, just a role you're meant to fill. You amuse someone for a while with the right lines and BAM this so-called "happiness". I know the truth though. In the end, oblivion.

The haunting melody drifted down the hall, past the sobbing of the weak and spineless. Eventually, all grew silent to my tune. I felt my scars pull back and the greasepaint crack. I vague thought pinged in the back of my mind to stock up.

"The lunatic is in my head. The lunatic is in my head. You raise the blade, you make the change, you re-arrange me 'till I'm sane!" My voice grew louder in anger.  
"You lock the door and throw away the key!" At this point, my voice was a furious snarl, ripping from my lips with fury. I regained my cool façade and finished the lyrics. "There's someone in my head but it's not me." A cruel, mocking laugh flew from my throat, unabridged. It was enough to strike any man to his knees in fear. Just the way I like it…

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Sorry this chapter was so short! It really was meant just to help you get into the mind frame of the Joker. Dark enough for you?

By the way, the song he's singing is "Brain Damage" by Pink Floyd. Eerie lyrics, awesome song :)


	7. Chapter 7: Ploy

Harley Pov

I began to view the Joker's chains and shackles as cruel and inhumane. He was, after all, a human still no matter what wrongs he had done. He smiled sweetly as he was chained down and I frowned at the guards. After they left, my mood lightened a bit. "Hello, Joker." His face lit up. "Hiya, Quinn! Since we're on the subject of introductions and what not, is the name as pretty as the face?" He spoke with a devious purr and I felt myself flush. "Harleen. My name is H-Harleen." His gaze was so intent that I could practically see the gears in his head turning. "Harley. Quinn. Harlequin!" He doubled over in laughter. I'd been teased numerous times before. "The irony, Doc. Just the irony." He wiped an invisible tear from his eye.

"Let's get down to business. Lately, your attitude has seemed somewhat….benign." His lips twitched minutely and something flashed in his eyes. It unsettled me briefly but I continued. "You have before been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. What do you think of that?" I was worried that questioning his sanity might come off as questioning his intelligence but he _was_ in an asylum. "Poppycock!" He smiled a bit but then his expression grew dark. "Pompous idiots. They think they can go around locking up anyone who doesn't subside into their false utopia."

"Say, Dr. Harley, do you like muffins?" He gazed up at me with childish innocence. The absurd question threw me off guard and my voice faltered as I replied. "Yes, I guess. I've never really thought about it too profoundly." He smiled. "That's great! I once had a friend who said that muffin's are just leper cupcakes. It's a shame about what happened to him, really." Remorse passed over his features and I jotted this down. "What happened to him, Joker?" He looked up pitifully. "Well, it was a while back so the details are a little fuzzy." He paused and I nodded that he should continue. "I cheated some mobsters from upstate and got in real deep, you know how easily these things happen. Well, I was king of the world then. Had hundreds of men that would live or die by my word." He smiled as he remembered his glory days.

"They knew that I was untouchable. So, the next logical thing to do was to go after my loved ones." Yes, that makes sense. "They caught a hold of him one night as he was walking home. They cut his entire left side off." He frowned. "I'm so sorry." I really was. This guy must have meant something to him. "Well, it's okay. He's _all right_ now." He burst out laughing. I scribbled out the note of an emotional attachment from the past. "No, Doc. I saw that. I really was kind of fond of him. Went to his funeral, I did." He held his head proudly. "Is that so?" It was very heard to imagine the Joker mourning. "You bet! _It pays to remember your social obligations. If you don't go to other people's funerals, they won't come to yours.__" _He laughed at his own joke.

His voice was contagious and I found that we were chuckling in unison. "I like you, Doc. Usually they'd have me shot up for something like that. I mean, normal people usually don't laugh at funeral jokes." I blushed. Did he think I was crazy? "I enjoy that aspect of your personality. You are not your normal tightwad psychologist. You're my friend." His smile was so earnest and I was flattered. A breakthrough! This was something unheard of with the Joker. I smiled and waved as he was escorted away when the session was over.


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